


How To Be Deserving

by Inisheer



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Implied Supercorp, but i don't wanna spam the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 03:12:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11371392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inisheer/pseuds/Inisheer
Summary: The annual Pride parade comes to National City.





	How To Be Deserving

**Author's Note:**

> In which everyone is gay (sensu lato).
> 
> Warnings for homophobia, implied biphobia, anti-alien prejudice, unreliable narrators, not enough Sanvers, and possibly controversial opinions (mine).

A couple of pigeons were the only observers to what, even in that part of the world, we might call an unusual event. From their perch on the fire escape they watched – not avidly, as a human or intelligent alien or even a brighter animal might have; but dismissively, through blank pigeon eyes – watched a circle of light appear in front of one of the narrow alley’s brick walls. For a moment it spun, condensed, held tight, before breaking apart into a shimmering array: not the wall, not the air, but the world itself almost cleaved in two. In it or beyond it could be seen green fields, rolling, and the scent of olive groves seemed to whisper on a breeze.

(Pigeons, contrary to popular belief, have a perfectly useable sense of smell.)

A woman stepped through. She was remarkably tall, with pinned-back black hair, and so indescribably beautiful that your humble author won’t embarrass herself in the attempt. She walked like a queen striding into a ballroom, or a commander to face her troops, in heels and perfect lipstick. (There would be weapons, too, somewhere unseen.) As the portal vanished behind her this woman brushed invisible dust from her blazer, and stepped out of the alley onto a sidewalk busy with rush-hour traffic. There she vanished expertly into the crowd.

The logo of L-Corp shone overhead in the morning sun.

The pigeons ruffled their feathers, unconcerned, and went back to preening themselves.

* 

There were advantages and disadvantages, Kara had found, to having her own office. She appreciated having a private space to work in – and duck away from Snapper’s path of destruction when he was on a rampage – but this didn’t change the fact that it had no windows. And it could get a little lonely, by herself and out of the way.

Maybe that was the job: after years of running around after Cat, Kara wasn’t used to the isolation of late nights re-typing pieces covered in red ink. Maybe it was because Winn was at the DEO and James busy learning to be her boss. Maybe her office seemed lonely now because the person who, for the last few months, had seen fit to walk in and interrupt her was no longer –

Anyway.

She was bored. It was hard to bring even the Kara Danvers patented enthusiasm to background research into the legal precedent for a stunningly frivolous lawsuit. She’d been idly messaging Winn until about fifteen minutes ago, when J’onn had caught him at it and ordered him to focus on work. Lena was in a shareholders’ meeting, Alex buried deep in lab work, and James –

Had just sent her a message.

An intriguing one, too. It said only: _Have you read this?_

Kara clicked the link.

It took her to a personal blog. Kara had seen the type before, like everyone familiar with blogs and small-scale websites: one of those clearly coded using a free Wordpress template. This one had adopted a jarring colour scheme, heavy on the deep red and blue. The symbol of the House of El spun in one corner. A fan?

The entries dated back about three months, and there were only half a dozen, published at irregular intervals. Kara started with the oldest: _Defending Supergirl Against the Supergirl Defence._

 _‘Once again, the courts have seen fit to go soft on criminals thanks to so-called “rough handling” by National City’s resident superheroine…_ ’

The piece continued like that. Words like “no-nonsense”, “powerful”, “punishment”, and their kin showed up repeatedly. In all, it was three thousand words of the reasons Supergirl should have been even more brutal to a couple of car thieves Kara, as it happened, recalled quite vividly from a drizzly spring evening. There had been a question of medical bills: PTSD, addiction problems, and someone in the family with fibromyalgia. There had been a young man, hardly more than a boy, in tears as the police officers snapped handcuffs on him. And punishment?

It took effort for Kara not to fly out her non-existent window. But that would be hard to explain. She clicked on the next link instead.

Kara felt progressively more sick as she read the other entries. Oh, the writer was a fan, indeed, and judging by the comments there were plenty of people in vehement agreement. By the time she reached the most recent post she was fuming.

Kara pulled the entry up on her tablet and marched out into the main office.

What she walked into was a scene of chaos. A summer heatwave had hit and, given the intensifying effects of the glass walls, the open space had turned into a veritable furnace. To Kara the heat only registered as faint warmth, but the smell – the smell was something else entirely. Building works were still underway to repair the damage done in the Daxamite invasion, and nobody had yet got around to fixing the shattered air con; meanwhile, construction workers thronged the place, installing new panes of glass and patching up bits of drywall. Both they and the regular staff were dripping with sweat, and everything was a hubbub of hammers, whirring fans and people complaining about the temperature.

Eve Teschmacher looked ready to hide under her table.

Cat’s office provided an oasis of relative calm: she had easy-to-open windows, a good view of the attractive foreman and no sympathy for whiners, and everybody was staying well out of her way (particularly James, who had most recently taken to working on the roof. Kara had warned him to wear sunscreen). Even Cat had wilted in the heat a little, though Kara was scared to even think that in her presence, and she brightened at the appearance of her former assistant.

‘Kiera! How do I convince my son he’s going to love the animals?’

Phone call. Carter. Animals? Oh, yes: Cat had stayed around for the clean-up, but she’d be heading off again in a few days, and had made plans to travel through the Andes by llama. Kara didn’t know how to convince Carter he’d love them because he was very much Cat’s son, and she wouldn’t have thought he would. She wouldn’t have thought Cat would. She was still reeling from the yurt.

Cat jabbed a button to put the phone on speaker. ‘Hi, Carter,’ said Kara. ‘Well, llamas are very, um, friendly?’

‘Kara, tell her I don’t want to go, they made me eat _horse_ , I wanna go back to _school._ ’

‘Carter, you said this last time. And didn’t you enjoy it when you got there?’ Cat urged.

His reply was a mutinous, ‘No.’

‘We’ll talk about this later,’ said Cat. ‘I need to get back to work. Love you. Have a good day.’ She hung up. ‘Now. To what do I owe this –‘ Looking Kara up and down. ‘Faint… Scowl… Of impotent rage, my my, Kiera, is something bothering you?’

‘I take it you haven’t seen this,’ said Kara, handing her the tablet.

Cat’s eyebrows went up as she glanced at it. ‘It’s not _my_ job to keep an eye on every troglodyte with wi-fi and a keyboard.’

Her scorn was grounding. Familiar. Kara felt her heart rate slow to something more normal. ‘It’s ridiculous,’ she said. ‘Could you even get more wrong?’

‘ _We Don’t Deserve Supergirl_ ,’ Cat read out.

Kara could have quoted the article by heart. The words were bouncing off the inside of her skull. _Supergirl defends this nation, but what is our nation?_ he’d asked. According to this – this random passer-by with no colour co-ordination skills, the country was going to rack and ruin. (She was not the hero of _America_ , she was the hero of – what, did people think the Daxamites would have stopped at the Mexican border?) Why should Supergirl defend people who’d abandoned upright American values and allowed the core of the family to disintegrate. … _think of the illegal immigrants, abortionists, drug-users and atheists. Picture the spectacle the gays will make of themselves next weekend. If this degeneracy is allowed to continue…_

Kara would be happier to defend everyone on that list than people like him. And she would, still, defend him. That was what Supergirl _did._ Even for the ones who deserved, at the least, to be dunked in the bay until the cold water knocked some sense into them. It was nauseating to think of this man using her as a figurehead. How could anybody believe Supergirl would agree with their ideology?

‘These little men and their petty blogs,’ said Cat, who could read fast. ‘They are rather irritating, aren’t they? They spring up like mushrooms. Or am I thinking of onions?’

‘No, you’re thinking of mushrooms,’ said Kara, then, remembering the point of the conversation: ‘But it’s – that’s not what Supergirl _is_ , that’s not what – she – stands for,’ she said.

‘Oh, people like that will see their own narrow-minded bigotry reflected in everything around them,’ said Cat, waving dismissively, as she might have swatted a fly. ‘And what Supergirl stands for is different to everyone. You know how I’ve tried to guide public perception, and since Supergirl is a personal friend I might hope I have some insight – but people do have their own minds.’ She said this like a small child admitting Santa Claus wasn’t real.

(The author would like to reassure any readers who’re concerned on this front that _of course_ Santa is real. It was only a metaphor, silly.)

Kara said, ‘He can’t just – _say_ things like that.’

‘Much as I wish that were true, he can. Though that doesn’t mean, of course, there’s nothing you – or _Supergirl_ – can do about it.’ Kara frowned, lost in thought. Like what? What could Supergirl do? What could Kara Danvers do? She could write a rebuttal but, as Kara, there wasn’t much she could say in response. Nothing was coming to mind, at any rate.

She’d dithered long enough to make Cat impatient. ‘Are you going to stand there all day, Kiera? You don’t need _my_ help, do you? Chop chop.’

‘Yes, Miss Grant.’ Kara grabbed her tablet. ‘Thank you, Miss Grant.’

She turned, lowered her head to drive forward through the main office, and almost walked right into the stranger who’d just emerged from the lift. Only Kryptonian reflexes prevented a full collision. Kara took a step back, apologising by second nature, and got a good look at the woman: taller than her, beautiful, with maybe-Mediterranean features and solemn brown eyes.

The woman said, ‘It is no trouble. I seek Kara Zor-El, Champion of this Earth. I believe that is yourself?’

Because her day _could_ not get any better. ‘Oh. Okay,’ said Kara. ‘Yes. That’s me. And you’re gonna come with me.’ She bundled the stranger into her office, mentally running through possibilities. An alien? There was nothing obviously alien about her, but plenty of those who came to Earth were shape-shifters, and she hadn’t known about J’onn for long enough – though you’d think a shape-shifter might have chosen a less conspicuous form. And she didn’t seem quite _human_ either. For one thing, she was the only other person not dissolving into a puddle of sweat in the heat.

‘I apologise,’ said the woman. ‘You do not use that name in public?’

‘No. It’s Kara Danvers.’

The woman smiled. ‘Yes. I understand about secret identities. I am Diana Prince, also Diana of Themyscira.’

‘I’ve… never heard of Themyscira.’

‘You would not. It is of Earth, but in another world,’ this Diana said, as if that was quite ordinary, and with a wistful smile.

Everything suddenly made _slightly_ more sense. ‘Oh – you’re from another universe?’ said Kara. ‘Do you need help getting home? I know a guy.’

‘That’s quite generous, but I don’t require any aid. I’m more than capable of getting around.’ She had an accent. Greek, perhaps, but not quite like Greek.

‘Oh. Good.’

‘I’ve been travelling. Your fast friend in the red suit suggested I pay you a visit. I am also a champion in my own world, of sorts, and I was curious to meet the woman I’d heard such great things about.’

‘Right,’ said Kara, internally berating herself for being at a loss for words. Who _was_ this woman? Some kind of metahuman, like Barry’s world had? Or what? There was strength in the way she carried herself and she _looked_ younger than Cat but no, not really, really she didn’t look young at all. She looked like she’d never aged, which was not the same thing.

(Your author thinks it prudent to remind the reader at this point of Diana’s remarkable beauty, and that there are limits to even Kryptonian poise.)

Kara said, ‘In that case, would you like to come to game night?’

* 

Alex had long since learned it was dangerous to think she’d seen it all, or even that she’d seen an appreciable fraction. The most important thing she’d learned about the universe, in the years since it dropped a teenage alien on her doorstep, was that it held endless surprises, and therefore very little of it was worth being surprised at. All the same, as it turned out, some things were still capable of throwing her for a loop, and she could count among them the appearance of a possibly-literal-goddess barefoot on her little sister’s couch.

A very polite one, too.

And she was staring, which was rude. Maggie wasn’t staring. In fact, Alex realised, Maggie was pointedly Not Staring at the side of the room where the two woman of immense and impossible power were holding a lively, laughing conversation about the varying cuisines of different universes. It would have been awe-striking enough, Alex reflected, to learn that gods were real – or some beings who called themselves gods, and had decidedly god-like abilities – and might sometimes see fit to walk among us. But Alex couldn’t deny that the difficulty of tearing her eyes away lay as much in the fact that Diana Prince, Warrior of Themyscira, was _oh so very beautiful_ , and the knowledge that she could run someone through with a sword as easily as shake their hand only exacerbated the swooping sensation Alex had learned to recognise since realising she liked women.

(The author can sympathise.)

Alex leaned over to Maggie and whispered, ‘Tell me I’m not hallucinating.’

‘Yes, babe. There’s a gorgeous Amazonian goddess talking to Kara about ice cream,’ said Maggie, sounding distant. Then she shook herself and turned to Alex with a dimpled smile. ‘I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?’

Alex slapped her on the arm, and rested her head on Maggie’s shoulder. ‘No. She’s not you.’

The discussion moved from ice cream to war. Diana rolled up her sleeves to show off some kind of silver gauntlet, delicately-worked layers of overlapping metal, and Kara was still oohing and aahing over them when the doorbell rang. James and Winn had finally arrived with the food. Alex needed a distraction, so she drafted Maggie to help her share out the food while Kara made the introductions. She took a vote on that evening’s game – ‘No, Winn, we’re not playing Monopoly’ – and went to dig out Settlers of Catan while everyone else dug into egg fried rice, chow mein and prawn crackers. (Potstickers for Kara, of course, and _extra_ potstickers for Kara, and Alex hoped Diana didn’t eat like her because she was _not_ making a pizza run.)

They played Explain The Game To The Newcomer, and Diana picked up the rules and soon had Maggie backed into a corner of the board. (Maggie called them all nerds when she was losing.) Kara thrashed everybody in the first game. James said to Maggie, ‘There’s something I’d like to ask you about Pride.’

‘Ask away,’ said Maggie.

Kara turned to Diana. ‘Pride is – do you have it in your world? Pride parades?’

‘Oh, yes. It started after the riots, I remember. I was living on the west coast at the time.’

Winn goggled. ‘What, you were there for the first parades? How _old_ are you?’ Alex elbowed him. Diana seemed quite happy to answer, though.

‘Nine hundred and thirty two,’ she said.

Maggie was saying, to James, ‘Yes, there are some people I can put you in touch with. I know a few who might be keen to talk.’

Winn opened and closed his mouth, silently repeating the number a couple of times. Alex elbowed him again. ‘You know how old J’onn is. And you look like a goldfish.’

Once he’d recovered himself Winn said to her, ‘Are you looking forward to Pride, Alex? First one?’

‘Yeah…’

Yes. No. Sort of? Maggie’s hand slipped away from her knee to make an emphatic motion as she said something to James, then returned like it had never left. Alex didn’t want to say in front of Maggie that of course she was looking forward to Pride, in the strict sense, in that it was a thing soon to happen and she had been thinking about it, looking ahead, in anticipation – but how could she be excited about something she wasn’t yet sure she’d like?

She knew Maggie was excited, though, that was the thing. She’d only half-managed to play it cool and Alex had teased her – where was her objection to public holidays? Was she really so keen to support a parade whose committee had reserved half a dozen floats for insurance firms but not a single one for bisexuals, until somebody noticed this and reminded the organisers they existed? The insurance firms might have learned about colour palettes in time for June, but putting up flags was easy and the lip service paid towards the LGBT community felt trite.

Maggie had told her Lip Service was an old lesbian TV show, and made Alex watch three episodes. Alex hadn’t teased again. It _was_ fun to watch Maggie trying to hide her enthusiasm under layers of sarcasm. She just didn’t think she could get on board.

She wasn’t sure what she’d ever done, by being gay, to be proud of. The ones who’d fought, who’d marched, who’d worked to change laws and hearts and minds, yes, obviously, but – Alex still sometimes tripped over the word _lesbian._ What right did she have to cover herself in glitter and rainbows and join the party? And she’d never exactly been a glitter person, anyway.

Kara sprang forward in her seat. ‘Oh! That’s what I can do!’

‘Do about what?’ said Alex.

‘About that idiot with the website,’ said Kara, and Alex was still lost – what website? – but James and Diana both looked thoughtful now. ‘I’ll go as Supergirl to Pride.’

‘As Supergirl,’ Maggie repeated flatly.

‘Alex, you don’t mind, do you?’ said Kara. The plan had been for her to come as _Kara_ , in support – and Alex didn’t mind, since she could see why Kara might instead come as Supergirl, in support, and that would matter to more people, but _what website?_

Winn was asking the same question. Kara said, ‘The one claiming the planet didn’t deserve to be saved from the Daxamite invasion because of abortion and gay people.’

‘That’s crazy.’

‘No, it’s disgusting. People like _him_ are the ones who don’t deserve – they don’t deserve to mouth off all over the internet, that’s for sure.’

Diana frowned slightly, opening her mouth as if to say something, then shrugged. No doubt she could have interrupted Kara’s tirade easily enough, but she leaned back and twirled noodles onto her fork instead.

‘… And you know what Cat’s like, she never gives you the answer…’ Alex half-heard James chuckle at Kara’s assessment. ‘… But I think this could work really well…’

‘… I’m not sure, Kara, I know you’re trying to help …’ Maggie had cut in.

Alex was _not_ staring at Diana. Who continued twirling, lazily, and now she’d rolled down her sleeves to conceal her armour you might once again have mistaken her for a teacher or businesswoman, in a crisp white shirt, long legs folded under herself, a literal goddess eating noodles in Kara’s living room.

Maggie huffed, muttering something about of _course Supergirl has to be everywhere_ , and offered Alex the remainder of her rice. Her eyebrows shot up when Alex jumped in surprise.

‘Sweet Mother, I cannot weave,’ Maggie said quietly. ‘Slender Aphrodite has overcome me with longing for a girl.’

‘Shut up.’

‘Oh, Sappho,’ said Diana, because of course, she had superhuman hearing too. ‘One of the great poets. You are fond of her?’

Maggie had gone very pink.

‘My favourite has always been Menodora.’

‘Which one?’ said Maggie, and Diana quoted a few lines. Maggie shook her head. Kara, James and Winn were setting up the game board again. ‘I don’t recognise it. I don’t – I don’t know them _that_ well.’

‘Perhaps she never wrote it in this world. Or is it one of the lost ones? It’s hard to remember which of her works the world of men preserved.’

Maggie was still shaking her head, jaw agape. ‘Oh. Wow. You have… Okay.’

‘I should not have mentioned it,’ said Diana. She smiled at them, then turned her attention back to Settlers of Catan.

Alex grinned. She kissed her girlfriend on the cheek, then murmured in Maggie’s ear, ‘I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?’

Kara thrashed them all at the second game too.

* 

Lena wasn’t sure how she had borne the late-night tedium of her work when she first moved to National City. It wasn’t as if she’d spent her life training for it: before that, work had always meant Jack’s company, and glad as she’d been to move away from him it didn’t mean the hollow silences of her chrome-and-glass office and abandoned labs were easy to deal with. She’d borne it, she thought, because there had been no alternative. If she had to again, she could. But she was deeply glad she didn’t have to.

Rather than silence, in the evenings Lena now had for company the constant chime of her phone and the stream of messages Kara sent her. Tonight she was narrating game night for Lena, familiar, but slightly more interesting than usual because Kara had a friend from Paris visiting. A good number of the messages concerned this Diana, and Lena couldn’t help but feel a little sidelined, even as the audience for Kara’s narrative of the night.

 _Sounds like you’ve got a new best friend_ , she sent, pausing for ten seconds to decide which emoji would best convey that she was only joking.

_Don’t be silly. You’re my best friend._

Then: _I’d love for you to meet her._

Of course Kara had other friends. Why would that bother Lena? It was _game night_ , which she always spent with other friends. And even if Lena could have dropped her work, which she couldn’t – even if she could remember how to be an ordinary person who played board games that weren’t chess-in-handcrafted-glass-sets, which she wasn’t sure about, though she’d done it once upon a time – there was no way Lena could have gone to game night on this night, thanks to the _guest_ in the corner of her office.

Said guest, who had until now been unnervingly silent, spoke up almost on cue.

‘Would you care for a game?’ said Lillian, indicating the chessboard. She’d spent the last ten minutes setting it up, leaning forward in her black suit, carefully aligning the pieces. She made Lena think of some shadowy creature from the deep, drab and stern against the pale couch, missing only the horns and claws. But were demons usually so concerned with the arrangement of chess pieces? That was Lillian: a perfectionistic, looming shadow.

Lena could hardly recall why her mother wasn’t in prison. But somebody would have needed to put her there and, after the last time, the authorities weren’t keen to try.

‘No, thank you, Mother. I have work to do,’ she replied, barely looking up.

‘But of course. You work very hard.’

‘Why are you here, Mother?’

Lillian smiled – or that was her best impression of a smile – and picked up the white queen, rolling it in her hands. ‘Can’t a mother visit her daughter?’

‘A mother _can_ ,’ said Lena, still waiting for an answer.

Lillian hummed. ‘I want to know about your life, Lena.’

‘Watch the news.’ What was the perfect degree of rudeness, Lena wondered, to make her mother leave? If she was too brusque Lillian would know she was getting to her, if Lena was polite she’d take it as an invitation, and either way she’d hang around. If Lena feigned indifference she might get bored. She honestly did need to get through this pile of reports, which consisted of updates from various subsidiaries. The current one was full of charts written on backwards axes with missing labels, and Lena’s first recommendation would be to hire someone who’d actually studied statistics.

‘Oh, I know L-Corp is doing well enough,’ said Lillian, with distaste. No doubt she’d have preferred it to fail. But no: Luthor Corp had been Lionel’s and Lex’s endeavour; it was the prize jewel in the family crown. Lena didn’t think Lillian despised her enough to hope she’d crash and burn if it meant taking the-former-Luthor Corp with her. Only, perhaps, for her to do slightly _less_ well, considering the new (and deliciously pro-children’s-hospital-and-green-energy) directions Lena had been steering the company in. ‘No, I’m more interested in your personal life.’

That startled Lena out of trying to interpret the current chart. Dammit. ‘There’s no need for you to concern yourself with my personal life, Mother. You never have.’

Lillian huffed. She looked for a moment as if she might deny it, but then, admitting she’d only ever tried to _interfere_ with Lena’s personal life was hardly conducive to the loving-mother attitude she’d apparently decided to adopt. It was like watching a snake try to snuggle a basket of kittens. Admittedly, with Lillian, this particular ploy showed up as regularly as the full moon. It had stopped working before Lena turned eight.

Lillian went for skimming over Lena’s comment. ‘I liked Jack well enough, but your only friend here is that silly Danvers girl, and I suppose you haven’t been dating.’

‘You’re here to ask about my love life?’ It was hard to keep incredulity from her voice. That was new. Though she _had_ been with Jack. And since then there had been – everything.

‘You are a Luthor, after all, and the only one left to carry on the family lineage,’ said Lillian, which Lena thought was a bit rich, coming from the woman who’d married in and told Lena she wasn’t _really_ a Luthor for twenty years. ‘You must think about these things.’

‘I have other things to think about,’ said Lena. No, she’d lost the thread of the numbers. She’d have to start again. Had they tried to do a logistic regression on a continuous dataset?

‘And you could have almost any husband, if you wanted.’

Funny. As if Lena had any plans of putting someone in risk like that, given the frequent dangers her life involved – and Lillian had been responsible for enough of them. As if she would have _time_ for a husband. As if she’d trust herself to raise children. Not that any of these points was likely to concern Lillian.

‘I’m not going to play chess with you,’ she told her mother. ‘Why do you want to? I always win.’

‘I can see you’re not in the mood for a conversation,’ Lillian said, pursing her lips together.

‘No, Mother. I’m working.’

‘Very well.’ Ah, good. She’d grown bored. ‘Keep in touch, Lena.’ She nodded – all the farewell Lena could expect; Lena offered only a tight smile in return – and strode out of the office. Lena held her breath until her footsteps faded in the corridor. It didn’t sound as though Lillian had stopped to harass her assistant, at least. She preferred to come and go quietly. Shadow.

Lena returned to her phone to find a barrage of texts from Kara, still talking about Diana.

_She’s really smart. You’d have loads to talk about._

There were a couple of minutes’ gap in the messages. The next lot concerned the upcoming Pride parade. _Maggie’s complaining about corporations getting floats. L-Corp has a float, doesn’t it?_

Lena finished up with the report, stacked it on one side, and rested her hand on her chin to think for a moment. Instead of reaching for the next (praying this one’s author had heard of the general linear model), she picked up her tablet, spent a few minutes frowning at a variety of pages, then called out, ‘Hector! Come here, please.’

Her assistant hurried through from his desk.

‘What initiatives do we have set up in support of the LGBT community?’ said Lena.

Hector fiddled with his watch, as he did when he was thinking. ‘We painted the foyer rainbow colours for Pride Month,’ he said. ‘That’s, um. June is Pride Month.’

‘Yes, I noticed. It’s very cheerful. But that’s not an initiative. It’s a paint job. What are we actually _doing_?’ Lena spread her hands. ‘Nothing. That’s what we’re doing. Why does L-Corp run four hospitals but do nothing to help LGBT people?’

‘Because you’ve never instructed us to,’ said Hector.

Lena laughed. That was true. Nobody had asked – and people did ask, about other things, college scholarships and minority recruitment and solar power – but that was no excuse. Lena should have thought of it herself. Hadn’t Kara been telling her all about her sister’s girlfriend for the last few months? Alex Danvers was hardly a homeless kid, or one of many other statistics to make Lena’s stomach drop – trans death rates and harassment and the number of states with employment protections – but all the same.

A Pride float and some rainbows made a pretty statement, and maybe even one people would listen to. But Lena had the power to do far more than that.

She said, ‘I’m instructing you now.’

* 

The day had arrived. The morning of. The big day. D-day. Crap.

If she was nervous, Alex Danvers sure as hell wasn’t going to admit it. And if she was privately hoping for a call-in from the DEO about an alien on a rampage (somewhere quiet with no civilians, since she wasn’t a monster) – well, it had been a quiet month.

She watched Maggie tie her hair back in a ponytail, then pull on a baseball cap (“Pride”), going from adorable to very gay in the time it took to adjust her hat. She did a little bounce as she turned around, smiling broadly at Alex. (So. Still adorable.)

And Alex, holding tight to a mug of coffee she hoped she could make last a little longer – it was going cold – and not dressed herself yet, was _definitely_ not going to admit nerves to her excited girlfriend.

There would be no Kara today, because Kara was being Supergirl, but they still had plans to meet James and Winn in the square in time for her speech. (How easy it was, Maggie had grumbled, for the organisers to move things around to give Supergirl a spot at the podium.) That added another two names to the list of people Alex Could Not Disappoint by backing out. But it would have only taken one.

‘Have you decided what you’re gonna wear yet?’ said Maggie. When Alex shook her head, she vanished into Alex’s wardrobe and emerged with one of her plaid shirts. The pink one.

Plaid. Of course. But what the hell. It _was_ one of her favourite shirts.

Alex held out her hand. ‘You’ll regret that when you lose me in the crowd,’ she said, catching the shirt as Maggie threw it to her.

Next up was a tube of glitter, and Alex almost flinched. Where had Maggie even been hiding that? Maggie faced her with puppydog eyes and said, ‘Please?’

Fine. _Fine._ ‘You’re lucky I love you, Sawyer,’ letting Maggie sketch the faintest dusting of glitter across her cheeks.

Maggie kissed her knuckles. ‘You’re gonna love it. Trust me.’ Her phone buzzed as she stood up and she pulled it from her pocket, scrolled down, and started frowning.

‘Everything okay?’

‘Just a Twitterstorm, babe.’ Maggie rolled her eyes, pocketing the phone again. ‘No worries.’

* 

And so it was Pride: or it was going to be Pride, in a couple of hours, and teams of volunteers were busy at work setting up various barriers and doing sound checks at the stage. A girl with spiky pink hair and a matching guitar (Lena was afraid to ask who she was, in case it turned out she’d been topping the singles chart for six weeks – that had happened to her at least once before) sang snatches of music into the main microphone and winced at the feedback.

Lena herself had a seat in the shade, blessedly, and a screen full of notes she didn’t need. Half her job was to introduce Supergirl anyway. She thumbed down the screen anyway, for the sake of looking busy, and to avoid being caught in conversation with the local politicians at the other side of the tent.

Kara bounced into sight, wearing her usual reporter clothes – a smart blouse and skirt – and trailing a dark-haired woman who had, conversely, dressed up for the event. Lena could guess who she was without being told, and she would have been more surprised if Kara _hadn’t_ said, ‘Lena! This is Diana. Diana, my best friend, Lena Luthor.’

‘Luthor.’ The usual flicker of startlement when people learned her name. But Diana recovered smoothly, and held out her hand. ‘A pleasure to meet you.’

‘Likewise,’ said Lena.

Kara said, ‘Lena, you know Diana’s from out of town. I don’t suppose you mind keeping her company for me?’

‘You’re not staying?’

‘No, I need to go and – do some reporting on the ground,’ said Kara. ‘So is that cool with you?’ When Lena affirmed it, Kara smiled and said, ‘Great! I’ll see you both later. Say hi to Supergirl for me!’ And she disappeared off into the still-sparse crowd.

Lena didn’t think Diana needed any help making friends. She looked the part for Pride, in a rainbow tie-dye shirt and beanie hat, from which masses of black hair spilled out. Her shorts looked far more comfortable for the heat than Lena’s own smart dress, and that was – a lot of leg – for God’s sake, Lena thought, the woman was almost as tall as Lillian. And absolutely gorgeous.

And, perhaps most annoying (and making it impossible to dislike her), she carried herself with the easy manner some women had, that Lena could never tell if they were being friendly or flirting or wouldn’t have known the difference themselves. Diana would compliment someone’s shoes and thirty seconds later they were taking selfies. Within minutes she’d befriended half a dozen people walking by. When one of the volunteers scurried across to ask if they needed any more water, they ended up in a conversation about how to bring girls home. (‘My mother is a formidable woman,’ Diana said to the young woman, but with fondness. Lena tried to imagine, first that she’d willingly introduce a partner to Lillian rather than trying to keep her as far away from them as possible, and second how her mother would react if she – Lillian didn’t overly mind gay people but it wasn’t as though she’d approve; it was almost a shame Lena preferred men –)

People were starting to gather in the square, but it was still pretty quiet. Once the young volunteer had headed off, Diana pulled a chair up beside Lena.

‘You know Supergirl? And you know Kara Danvers? Both?’ she said.

‘Yes, both,’ said Lena.

Diana looked out over the crowd. A couple of kids chased flags trailing from the armfuls a man was carrying across the square. They’d got the microphone sorted, and the pink-haired girl had taken a step back to let someone else test their drums.

‘It is wonderful, is it not? This celebration of love.’ She sounded reflective. ‘Love in the face of hatred.’

Lena thought of Lex and Lillian, the broken face of the man who had once been Hank Henshaw, the way anti-alien attacks had risen in the aftermath of the Daxamite invasion. ‘There’s a lot of hatred to go around,’ she said.

‘Not too much,’ said Diana. Her face lit up. ‘Oh, there is your friend.’

There was Supergirl, rising over the massing crowd. Blue and red and – flashes of other colours, Lena thought, though it was hard to tell at a distance. She turned a lazy loop-the-loop.

‘Quite a remarkable individual,’ said Diana. ‘Though she does like to show off.’

‘And she’s stubborn,’ said Lena. Diana wore a conspirational smile now, and Lena couldn’t help reflecting it.

‘Cocky.’

‘Reckless.’

Diana said, ‘Better for a warrior to charge in than never face battle.’

Lena shrugged. True. In her experience, those were rarely the only options. She wondered who Diana was, exactly. Kara did have a talent for making friends with improbable people.

‘She loves, you would say? She fights for love?’ Diana enquired.

Supergirl? Out of town, indeed. Lena would have thought they’d heard of her love and the power she had to inspire people even in Paris. (If that was where Diana actually hailed from. Lena knew a Paris accent when she heard it, and hers wasn’t it.) But there was something so ingenuous about the question and the asker that made it difficult to do anything but answer honestly.

‘She’s one of the best people I know,’ said Lena.

‘Good.’

Lena thought Diana’s smile could probably end wars. 

* 

There was, as always, nothing like flying. People began to take notice as Kara rose above the crowd on the avenue. She saw faces turning up. As she completed her loop-the-loop, showing off the rainbow flag draped over her cape, a ragged cheer rose to Kara’s ears.

The first of the floats were making their way in procession: marching bands, bikers, an AIDS research charity, a – building society? There was one float dedicated to the asexual community, black and white and grey and purple. Another for trans youth.

Kara picked a random point and dropped into the crowd.

‘Everybody having fun?’

All these multicoloured, joyous people, thronging in a vibrant collection of sequins and face paint, undercuts and fishnet tights, butch lesbians in psychedelic leather jackets, and, yes, somebody dressed up as a unicorn – and she didn’t need to be told that they were.

* 

It was busier than she’d imagined. Alex didn’t think she could have prepared for the sheer mass of _people._ But you could vanish in it, she told herself, and that made her feel calmer. Maggie’s hand didn’t let go of hers even as she pointed things out: the slogans on the signs, all the different flags Alex couldn’t keep straight. (She hadn’t known there were different flags for genderqueer and genderfluid pride; and what was that black and blue one?)

Everyone was dressed – loudly, Alex supposed, brazenly, announcing their identities to the world. She couldn’t have done that. She’d always dressed exactly as she wanted to, and she didn’t want to announce anything, except how much she loved her girlfriend. There was no way to say that in plaid. There _were_ other people around who hadn’t gone all-out, she realised, maybe even a majority, though even those in the drabbest clothes had made some concession to rainbows.

The number of people packed into the space made the heat almost overwhelming. Alex forced herself to concentrate, keeping her head clear in the whirlwind of colour. ‘What’s that one?’ she asked, and Maggie frowned. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t know.’

‘I’ve seen a similar one,’ said Maggie.

They went over to ask the girls holding it. The girls laughed and one said, ‘It’s the lesbian flag.’ That seemed appropriate. Lotta pink.

(The author thinks it is completely unnecessary to tell you she currently has her nails painted in the colours of the lesbian flag, or at least the closest approximation possible with only five fingers and pharmacy nail polish.)

‘Oh my _god_ ,’ said Alex, once they were out of earshot. ‘You didn’t know your own flag?’

Maggie swiped her. ‘I’m gonna go get ice cream. Find us a seat?’ She left Alex with a kiss, a lingering one, and Alex touched her fingers to her lips, trying to remember if they’d ever kissed like _that_ in public – secure in the knowledge that if they looked around, anyone watching them would be doing so with indulgent smiles. Then the thought bubbled up, a little slow: lesbian flag. They had their own flag. Alex quite liked it, too, even if pink was only rarely her colour.

It was very hot, though. Maggie had been right that finding a seat was a good idea. The sidewalk was practically melting. It didn’t look like there were many options, except maybe perched on a wall, and not only would the stone be scorching but it was already crammed. All the café seats too, under the parasol, had already been claimed.

A woman near Alex stumbled and Alex reached out to catch her instinctively. She was elderly – eighty, ninety – with a shock of white hair, accompanied by an equally old man, both of them half Alex’s size. The sign they were holding between them declared _WE LOVE OUR GAY SON._ People were trying to be careful but it would be easy for them to be buffeted by the crowd. Alex thought about heatstroke, and sunburn on liver-spotted skin.

‘Why don’t we get you two into the shade?’ she said.

‘Thank you, dear,’ said the old woman.

Alex managed to steer them towards the café tables. A pair of thirty-something dads jumped out of the way, gathering up baby bottles and a cloth picture book.

‘It’s the forty-fifth year we’ve come to this parade,’ said the old woman, sitting down carefully in the chair. ‘And I have never in all my days seen weather like this.’ Her husband had already taken his own chair, resting forward on his walking stick for an extra point of balance, and closed his eyes.

‘Do you have plenty of water?’ said Alex. Glancing back at the sign, she said, ‘What about your son? Is he coming to meet you?’

‘Oh, honey,’ said the old woman. ‘We buried him two decades ago.’

Crap. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Alex.

She could feel her cheeks burning under the glitter, but the woman didn’t seem offended. She patted Alex’s hand, saying, ‘That’s all right. It’s hardly your fault.’ Alex was reminded of grandparents. Not of _her_ grandparents, necessarily, but some more general image of grandparent-ness, of gentle old ladies and houses that smelled of lavender water. She’d be willing to bet there was hard candy in the woman’s purse. ‘Are you here by yourself?’

‘No, I’m with my girlfriend. She’s –’ Alex looked around. Maggie was still arguing about change with the ice-cream seller. ‘The beautiful one in the hat.’

‘How disgustingly in love you young people are,’ said the old woman. ‘Oi! When was the last time you called me beautiful?’ she said to her husband.

‘I believe it was last week.’ There was a hint of Irish to his accent, and he answered without opening his eyes.

‘You never said it last week.’

‘Must have been this week, then.’

‘Liar.’

He opened his rheumy eyes and looked his wife slowly up and down. ‘My dear, I do apologise. I didn’t think it needed to be said. You are, self-evidently, as beautiful as the day I met you.’

‘And you’re an old sap,’ said the wife.

They were still going at it when Maggie arrived, and handed over the ice cream, and Alex kissed her and put her arm where it belonged around Maggie’s shoulder.

A middle-aged woman who seemed to know them arrived, leading to a round of introductions. The old woman started quizzing the newcomer on how saving up for surgery was going, asking the kind of invasive, personal questions about her finances that would have been too rude for anyone under ninety. Alex quietly finished her ice cream before it melted into soup. A group of bikers roared past in the parade, revving their engines, and that sparked a conversation about motorbikes, of which Alex did _not_ own too many.

A shout distracted her, nearby, worried-verging-on-panicked. It was one of the dads from the pair who’d offered their seats, the clean-shaven one. The bearded one held the baby in his arms and a suspiciously sparkly toddler by the arm.

‘I swear I was watching. She just vanished,’ said Clean-Shaven, shoulders drooping.

‘We’ll find her,’ said Bearded, trying to rock the baby one-handed.

Alex nudged Maggie. Lost kids – she’d had nightmares about losing Kara, before Kara learned her way around, and her sister had never actually been a helpless small child even if she’d occasionally had the sense of one. ‘Are you all right? Do you need any help?’

Clean-Shaven scooped up the toddler. He looked on the verge of tears. ‘It’s our little girl. She’s run off. She’s five…’

* 

‘Hey! I’m glad I found you,’ said James, flagging down a blue-skinned alien. ‘Kayla, right?’

The alien stared at him down her nose, blinked slowly – a sign of agreement in her species – and made a clicking noise at the back of her throat. That meant amusement. Her kind were shapeshifters, like many of those who came to Earth; but some, finding they could physically fit into human spaces well enough, preferred to wear their own forms. ‘Kayla will do. You are Mr Olsen. Detective Sawyer speaks highly of you.’

‘Does she? That’s nice of her.’

There was a cluster of aliens of various species in the crowd with Kayla, some giving him curious looks, others more concerned with cheering their throats out as the floats went past. They were right up against the barrier. James leaned forward to snag a paper bi pride flag from an older gentleman’s top hat and tucked it into Winn’s shirt pocket.

Winn responded with a pair of deeply uncool finger guns and went back to leaning over the barrier.

‘So…’ James said, slipping into his Reporter Voice, fingers twitching around the camera in his hands. He’d got a few good shots of Kara already. ‘Aliens at Pride. But how do aliens view this human idea of Pride and LGBT rights?’

‘It depends on the alien,’ said Kayla.

‘Well, for starters, how about yourself? How is this different from your home planet?’

‘The discrimination, mostly.’ Kayla’s ears flicked up and down for a minute. ‘On my planet it would be considered very strange and rude to judge a man for loving another man.’

‘Would you say your planet is more advanced, socially speaking?’

‘Thinking yourself more advanced than others is a very primitive mindset.’

James wished he knew Kayla’s species better: he might have been able to tell if she was making fun of him. As it was, he decided not to waste his energy on parsing that particular comment, and continued to quiz Kayla about the differences between her own planet and this one.

Others of the group seemed eager enough to talk to him. James spent a while receiving an in-depth explanation of the sexual politics of Mira, where there were three sexes – not genders, sexes – and the people were shapeshifters. Most preferred to cycle through the three sexes, and those who stuck to a single sex were considered unusual at best.

On Kapteryn, he learned, it was common for individuals to be bisexual or asexual, much as on Earth, but they were neighbours and ancestrally related to the people of Kaptelyn, where nobody had ever heard of individuals who varied from the pattern of heterosexual, lifetime monogamy. A group of Kaptelytes, who didn’t understand all the fuss, had gone to take advantage of the peace and quiet in M’gann’s bar while everybody else was at Pride. There was a long-running, mostly friendly academic debate regarding which more closely resembled the original condition, and apparently some trouble with fetishisation by Earth priests.

Kara touched down beside them. ‘How’re you getting on?’ she asked James, stealing Winn’s flag.

One of the aliens laughed. ‘Supergirl. Krypton was another planet where they didn’t bother much, wasn’t it?’

‘No natural births on Krypton for a long time,’ said Kara. ‘It hardly made a difference who anyone loved. But then, half the marriages were political matches,’ she said, slipping into that wistfulness she always carried when discussing Krypton: good or bad, it had been hers.

She went to talk to Winn, acting as if she’d only just met him and introducing herself as Supergirl. It took Winn a moment to catch on. James snapped a couple of photos of them together, then turned his attention to the parade itself, where what looked like a youth group was marching past. Then he found another member of the group keen for a conversation, to continue learning about alien genders and sexualities.

*

DEO training could be handy when it came to slipping through crowds. Alex ducked under a banner carried by a group of drag kings, dodged a collection of boys in matching T-shirts stuffed over their ordinary clothes, and came face-to-face with someone in a babadook costume.

There was no point asking anyone if they’d seen a little girl. There were kids running _everywhere._ At least proud dads kept pictures (and pictures and pictures and pictures) of their daughters on their phones, so Alex knew who she was looking for.

Though what she found, in the end, was a pair of trainers, just visible under one of the sets of restaurant tables stacked by the wall. Alex ducked and came face-to-face with the girl, huddled, knees drawn up to her chest.

‘Are you Emma?’

A nod.

‘You, um…’ Alex tried to remember how to talk to children. Last time hadn’t exactly been a success. ‘You okay under there?’

‘’S too noisy,’ said Emma.

It was funny. Alex would have loved this when she was five. But she did remember the shy kids, the scared ones, who found everything too loud or bright or colourful. Kara, while she was still learning to control her powers.

‘Mind if I join you?’

Emma considered this seriously. ‘Okay,’ she said. Alex crawled under the tables and placed her back to the wall a respectable distance from the girl, mimicking her pose more loosely.

When she was five – a long time ago – Alex would have been the one tearing away into the crowd. But that was before open spaces made her check sightlines and cover, before popping balloons caused her to reach for a weapon she wasn’t carrying, and before she was scared people would tell her she wasn’t good enough to be here.

The tables formed a shield from the sun. The oven-heat still seeped in, but it was more bearable, and the grainy surface of the sidewalk under Alex’s palms was cool.

‘Your dads are looking for you,’ she said. ‘Do you want to go and find them?’

Emma hunched into herself further.

‘What are you scared of?’ said Alex.

Eyes fixed on the forest of legs beyond the table, Emma finally said. ‘Aliens.’

‘Aliens?’

‘Not s’posed to go near them. They were scary, they had – they had really big eyes and things sticking up from their heads and they were all green an’ scaly, they were _so_ scary. Then I couldn’t see where Dad and Daddy had gone.’ Her face had screwed up with the effort of not crying, which it sounded like she was failing at anyway. Emma breathed in, shuddering. ‘And – and – I _know_ I’m not supposed to run off, they’re gonna be so mad.’

Alex edged a little closer and, carefully, reached an arm around the child’s skinny shoulders. ‘Um. Okay.’ Emma sniffled and leaned in against Alex’s side. ‘They’re not going to be mad. Or they might, a bit, but more than that they’re going to be relieved because they love you and want you back. They sounded very worried when I spoke to them.’

Emma nodded and wiped her nose on her T-shirt.

‘And those aliens were probably friendly. They sound like Coluvians. They only eat fish. Not human girls.’

‘My dads said. They don’t like aliens.’

‘Did you know Supergirl’s an alien?’

Emma scrunched up her nose. ‘No way.’

‘Way.’

‘But she’s so pretty.’

‘There’s no reason an alien can’t be pretty,’ said Alex. ‘Or kind, or good.’

‘There’s an alien in my class at school. She’s nice.’ Emma paused. ‘Sometimes people make fun of her.’

Alex had never thought about that. Alien kids who weren’t just strange or misfits, but had no way of hiding exactly what they were. Something Maggie would understand, she suspected.

She said, ‘There you go. Aliens are just like humans. They go to school and they have jobs, and they can celebrate love just like humans. Like your daddies are here to do, right?’ The roar of a rising cheer washed over them. ‘All these people, they’re here to shout about how much they love each other. And it might be scary, but it’s good, too. Do you see?’

There had been more attacks on aliens, over the last few weeks. Even with the president’s attempts to calm the situation, the events of the Daxamite invasion had thrown everything into upset just as it looked like alien acceptance might be gaining a foothold. A lot of anger going around. Deaths. People wanted the aliens gone.

People wanted _them_ gone, too: families like Emma’s torn apart or never allowed to exist; gay people like Alex ashamed of themselves and their own desires, or so repressed they failed to recognise them, as she had.

As she had.

As she had. The thought rang inside her head. (Wait.)

Other people, the same people, were desperate for everyone to live according to the way their genitals had looked when they were born – male, female, and if it wasn’t so simple then a surgeon could make the decision for a newborn. The world was only happy when it could pretend they weren’t real. And if they persisted in existing anyway, they ended up dead. Just like the aliens.

Yet they were still here. Not all of them, but enough to pack the streets of National City and overwhelm it with noise. Enough for companies that couldn’t find their moral compass with neodymium to come out in support because they thought it was worth profit. But that wasn’t the point of Pride.

The point was showing the people who would destroy them that they couldn’t. Not all of them. The world still contained men like Kara’s blogger, just as it contained men who’d tell their children to keep away from aliens: so it did still mean something. It was still necessary, no matter how many insurance companies had floats. It was still in response to some deep, determined need. Alex could see it in people’s faces. She could hear it in the roar of the crowd.

And Alex was here, too.

*

‘On Geva we have two main sexes, as here, but there are no social or aesthetic differences between them. Often outsiders assume we have no male sex, or no female sex,’ said the Gevanite. He – the alien resembled a he, at least, a perfectly ordinary human man, and if James remembered correctly, this was half the size and rather less crab-like than their natural form – he continued by saying, ‘I am an egg-layer so I suppose, by the standards of your species, female. But we don’t think of it like that. When I came here I chose to present myself as male. You don’t treat your females very well. It is… strange.’

‘It is strange,’ James agreed. ‘You don’t mind being called – he, him?’

The alien gave him a pitying, you’re-not-getting-it look. ‘It makes no difference to me. Our pronouns distinguish between age and rank, not sex. We only concern ourselves with that when it comes to finding a mate.’ He (they?) snorted. ‘Quite a lot of courtship involves finding out the other’s sex, because everybody over two hundred thinks it’s too rude to simply go and _ask._ There’s lots of… Protocol.’ He made a hand gesture like someone might have used when referring to cannibalism. ‘In the real world you get plenty of gamete-trading and egg-trading under the – what’s the phrase? Under the table.’

‘No doubt,’ said James.

Kara was playing a game of demonstrating how many under-sevens she could lift at once. It was an activity more limited by the constraints of space than strength. A couple of preschoolers were balanced precariously on her head.

A woman smiled at James, and he approached her and her male-looking partner. They were now at the edge of the group, near a gaggle of humans who’d claimed the next stretch of fence along. A couple of them were shooting suspicious looks at the alien crowd. James raised his camera questioningly and received glares in return.

These two didn’t quite resemble humans. Their eyes were too big, their noses not entirely the right shape, and up close it was clear James was looking not at brown skin but at sleek downy fur, like a seal’s. The man had no hair and James wondered if the woman’s braids were a wig.

He introduced himself, shaking oddly warm hands, and he might not be able to name their species but if he didn’t know better he’d say they were nervous. ‘Where are you from?’ James asked.

The man told him, in a quavering voice, of a water-rich planet full of swamps and open ocean. He spoke of the great underwater cities of a world which, like Earth, had known scant alien visitors until a few generations ago. Daxamites, Dominators and others of their ilk might be eager to conquer every inhabitable rock in their path but they were not the loudest or, until recently, the most powerful voices among the interstellar community: some, rising to prominence in ancient times, had opted to guard the isolation of young planets that their inhabitants might develop in peace. (Winn would know the Star Trek name for it, James thought.)

On that planet, members of the dominant sapient species formed clusters. Three or four males would join together, or three or four females – rarely five, rarely six, and always, always of one gender – to live and raise children together. Males came together with females only at mating times. Romantic bonds across the genders were not unknown, nor even particularly rare, but they were considered deeply sinful.

They had fallen in love. Threatened with arrest and severe punishment, at almost the last moment they’d made their escape. A trader they’d made friends with – a Tamarean – had smuggled them onto his ship and brought them to Earth.

It might have a thriving tea trade, but Achernar was still quite closed off from the alien community. The woman said that when she’d learned about the state of affairs on Earth, ‘I couldn’t stop laughing, man. Here you were, in trouble for loving your own gender, and here we were, in trouble for loving the opposite one. I was laughing about that for _weeks._ Still laughing when we got married. Man and wife.’ She held up a ring finger proudly. ‘Dunno how legal it is and all, us being aliens here, but the pastor seemed right sure it counted in the eyes of God. Whatever god.’

One of the young women from the neighbouring group said, ‘So you’re a woman and he’s a man? So you’re straight?’

‘It’s not that simple,’ said the alien woman, but she and her husband didn’t get far into their attempt at an explanation before they were interrupted.

‘That’s there, where you’re from,’ another of the women countered. ‘Here, you’re cishet. You’re in a het relationship. What are you even doing at Pride?’

‘Woah. Back up a moment,’ said James, in a soothing tone. ‘It’s Pride. Plenty of straight people show out for support, and nobody’s checking anyone’s credentials.’

Movement in the crowd. Some of the aliens had begun paying attention. Kayla was weaving through the group of Kapterytes. Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Kara shake off the children like autumn leaves, sending them running back to their parents.

‘I’ve got nothing against aliens,’ said the first woman, ‘But what do they even have to do with Pride? With LGBT history?’

Kayla had arrived. ‘I have been fighting for queer rights on this planet since you were in diapers, lassie.’

The “lassie” was Kara’s age at least, possibly older than James, and looked suitably peeved at being so called. A much younger girl piped up, ‘You shouldn’t say that word –’ She withered under Kayla’s stare, accompanied by rapid throat-clicks.

‘What’s going on?’ said Kara, bobbing up. She had Winn’s bi pride flag tucked into her hair.

‘Oh, good, more straight people,’ one of the women muttered.

James shook his head at her, hoping she’d understand his meaning, that she’d listen – _please stay out of this._ Supergirl throwing her weight around to enforce alien rights would only make things worse. He wished he knew what would make it better.

She must have seen, because she saw everything, so she was ignoring him. ‘And these people don’t need more _humans_ making life harder for them on this planet,’ Kara snapped.

‘I’m sure your life is so hard,’ the woman retorted.

‘I’m not talking about me, I’m talking about them.’

‘Supergirl,’ James said quietly. It was Kara he could see right now, not Supergirl: just for a second, before she composed herself, and Supergirl’s usual regality returned. Her jaw muscles tightened but she did look at him then, and nodded.

She gave the women’s group a pleasant and deeply chilling smile. Some were already trying to drag their friends away, muttering apologies. Only those two or three who had kicked off the argument looked ready to continue it. Kara said, ‘I’d hate to hear about any fights at Pride. That’s really not in the spirit of the day, is it? Maybe you should find somewhere else to stand, if being so close to aliens bothers you.’

She flew off.

Kayla said, ‘You heard the Kryptonian.’

James took one final photo.

* 

Maggie Sawyer had, as predicted, lost her girlfriend.

She couldn’t see Alex, or the little girl, or the dads, but she _could_ see Kara turning lazy circles overhead, and for the first time in a while. Maggie waved her down. A couple of people jumped back and someone squealed in excitement as Supergirl landed by her side.

‘Can you help me find Alex?’ she murmured. Then, noticing Kara’s expression: ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ said Kara, waving it off. She turned in a lazy circle, beaming at the crowd. When she completed her three-sixty to find Maggie still with her arms folded and wearing a skeptical expression, Kara said, ‘I’m fine, Detective Sawyer.’

‘If that’s fine, I’d hate to see upset.’ Maggie had her suspicions, and the thought of dealing with that right now – it was _Pride._ She’d been coming since she was eighteen and every year, no matter what else was happening, no matter how bad her life was, it had never failed to make her feel safe. Welcome. _Wanted._ Even as a cop – but being a cop didn’t matter here: she’d been marching at Pride since before she joined the force and she’d march after she left. She knew the community had its problems but did all the screwed-up-ness of the world have to invade here, too?

She sighed. ‘Nice flag, by the way.’

‘Thanks,’ said Kara. ‘I’m going to look for Alex.’ With that, she launched herself into the sky.

* 

Alex had just managed to coax Emma out from her hiding place (almost regretfully, given the weather) when her sister dropped down beside them.

‘Supergirl!’ Emma gasped.

In response to Kara’s quizzical look, Alex said, ‘Her dads needed help finding her. Got a bit overwhelmed, I think.’

‘Was it too loud? That happens to me,’ Kara said, kindly, and Emma flushed pink – then remembered to nod. ‘Under the table is a _very_ sensible place to hide.’ She flashed Alex a tight smile, and said, ‘Got to go. Almost time for my speech.’

Alex thought she sounded strained, and usually big, buzzing events like this would bring out Kara’s exuberant side – she seemed to bask in the attention – but she couldn’t exactly ask _Supergirl_ if something was the matter in the middle of the parade.

‘Supergirl.’

‘Agent Danvers.’

Instead of flying off, Kara hopped thirty feet over the heads of the crowd and touched down again just out of sight. Shortly afterwards she rose, circling higher, then streaking off in the direction of the square. They weren’t too far away, Alex realised, but she and Maggie would need to hurry if they wanted to find Winn and James in time for Kara’s speech.

‘You’re a nagent? An’ you know Supergirl?’

‘I do.’

‘Does she really live at the North Pole?’ said Emma.

‘No, the Fortress of Solitude isn’t that far north. But it is very cold,’ said Alex. ‘Now let’s find your dads.’ Almost thoughtlessly, she swung the girl up onto her hip.

They found Maggie first, jogging to them through the crowd. Alex greeted her with a one-armed hug. Maggie stepped back, tilting her head, dimples forming, and Alex got the sense of a joke she wasn’t in on.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

Clean-Shaven had gone to look in another direction, but Bearded was where they’d left him, trying valiantly not to lose a second child. The old lady had given him his seat back and a scatter of candy wrappers on the table made Alex wish she’d offered her earlier mental bet to someone. Emma squirmed to get down.

Alex deposited her on the sidewalk. ‘I believe this is yours?’

‘Dad, the lady’s friends with Supergirl!’ said Emma, running towards him. ‘And I got to meet her and she spoke to me –’

‘Is that so?’ her dad said, pulling her close.

Alex brushed the back of Maggie’s hand, knocking their shoulders together, then reached round to clasp her girlfriend’s fingers in her own. Maggie squeezed back, laughing, leaned in and whispered to Alex, ‘You’ve got glitter on your nose.’

* 

Kara wanted to throw something moonwards. If she wasn’t careful she was going to break part of the street. Flying helped, flying always helped, and she stayed in the air for a couple more minutes. Listen. There was the blood rushing through her own veins. There were heartbeats of the thousands below, uncountable, riotous. Her rainbow flag fluttered in the wind. There was another, smaller flag still tucked behind her ear.

She landed at the edge of the square, under the stage. Diana sat just in the shade of the open-fronted tent, legs stretched lazily in front of a white plastic chair, snapping photos. She raised the camera to catch Kara in the sight, then lowered it. ‘You are unhappy. Why?’

‘There were people telling aliens they shouldn’t be here. Queer aliens, and it’s not like – enough straight people come to gawk. Or to be allies.’ Kara clenched her fists, trying to find words. She was so seething mad she could hardly keep her thoughts straight. First that idiot blogger, now this. She’d thought Pride would be so _good._

Lena was in the middle of her speech, making her best of the crackling microphone. Someone bobbed up to confirm that Supergirl was all ready to go, and Kara held her tongue, nodding politely, until the woman was out of earshot. The musicians were clattering with their instruments by the edge of the stage. The tent was empty apart from abandoned chairs and water bottles.

Kara resumed her angry, confused rant. ‘I know there’s prejudice against aliens, for Rao’s sake, I know that perfectly well, but – here? Today? How can people know who know what it’s like be so cruel?’

Diana leaned back, rotating the gear at the back of the camera until it clicked. ‘None of us are perfect,’ she said.

‘I know.’

‘You think less of them,’ said Diana, meeting Kara’s gaze with brown eyes.

‘I… No, it’s not like that, I just…’

‘You think they don’t deserve you,’ Diana continued. She snapped a picture of Kara that must have caught her defensive expression perfectly.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ she snapped.

‘Not that you will ever do anything but defend this planet,’ Diana said, as if that was reassurance; and it was, Kara could admit, though more for the demi-goddess’s opinion of her than her own confidence. She _knew_ that. ‘You will do it because you are Supergirl. But that does not mean all of Earth’s people deserve your protection, even as you extend it to them. Some are cruel, heartless, horrific. Is that true?’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘Does it matter?’ Diana replied.

It would be easier if it wasn’t the case. Easier if people were all as good and kind as Kara tried to tell herself they were. But that wasn’t true here any more than it had been on Krypton.

Sometimes it didn’t matter. When she stood up to protect the people of Earth from alien invaders and other grand threats – then the battles were hard but Kara could be sure of what she was fighting for. She was their hero on Earth too, though, every day on the streets of National City, and nine times out of ten what the people of Earth needed to be protected from was other people. Fine when it was bank robbers and muggers but sometimes it was more complicated than that. And punching wasn’t always the way to make things better.

‘I’m not just meant to protect them,’ Kara said. ‘I’m meant to inspire them. But they hear me wrong, or they won’t listen.’

Diana shrugged fluidly. ‘Then you’ll have to speak louder.’

She pointed the camera out towards the crowd, rainbow-wreathed, sweat-stained, uncertainly applauding the conclusion to Lena’s speech. Escaped balloons were vanishing into the sky. It was still early in summer, the first great expression of that wild summer joy, as though the heat for all its drought-bearing menace made everything twice as alive.

Lena was stepping away from the microphone. Kara straightened her flag and nodded to Diana. ‘Shall we?’ 

* 

‘In conclusion, the challenges facing LGBT youth and the LGBT community at large in National City have been overlooked by L-Corp for too long. We’re still early in the planning stages, but we hope to work with community leaders in developing a range of initiatives which will provide concrete assistance to those who need it most.’

It was politic-speak, if the relatively straightforward kind, and was received with polite claps across the crowd. Lena would hardly have expected the response to raise the roof, though a couple of people did whoop. She said, ‘And now I’d like to introduce someone I’m sure you’re all much more eager to listen to – National City’s very own hero, Supergirl!’

Lena stepped back to give the blue-suited hero the stage and almost bumped into Diana. Supergirl didn’t walk up to the podium, naturally. She flew down, gracefully, twin capes fluttering despite the lack of breeze.

‘Hello, people of National City!’ said Supergirl.

The crowd responded with a tremendous roar, then fell silent, attentive to her every word.

‘I came out here today to show my support for the LGBTQ community,’ she said. ‘I’ve always – I’ve always considered myself accepting of the community, but I think I should tell you that things have taken on a more personal dimension for me in the last year. Someone very close to me came out a few months ago and it has been a total honour to watch her learn about herself and be happier than I’ve ever seen her before. But also as a result of that I’ve learned more about the issues that face the LGBTQ community to this day, and the struggles you face, and how brave you all have to be. Which you shouldn’t have to be. It’s incredible, but you shouldn’t have to be.

‘When I think about courage I think about you, and I think about the other minority groups who face prejudice and oppression on this planet. Among these are the people who didn’t start on planet Earth at all, but have come from beyond the stars. I think as most of you know, I’m an alien myself –’

A few whispers were rippling through the crowd by now.

‘I know what it’s like to leave your planet, your whole world, and try to find a place in a totally unfamiliar one. It’s hard. I can hardly imagine how much harder it would be to deal with the prejudice visible aliens receive from humans on a daily basis. I don’t have to deal with that, because my species, Kryptonians, look very similar to humans. Also because I’m bulletproof.’

Laughter.

‘But not all aliens have my advantages. Most don’t. So you can imagine that I was deeply disappointed today to witness harassment of aliens – _queer_ aliens, according to their own culture – by members of the LGBTQ community. You know what it’s like. You should know better than that.’

Supergirl paused for a moment. More whispers, more muttering. She seemed to take a deep breath in.

‘When I tried to say so, I was told I had no place in that discussion, because I was straight. That’s a dangerous assumption to make of a human. I don’t understand why anyone thinks they can apply it to an alien.’

What?

Lena, focused on Supergirl, barely noticed Diana moving away from her.

‘I was a child when I left Krypton, a long time ago now. I came to Earth, where I was expected to fit in, and I was taught that on Earth men and women marry each other and have families. Maybe it had been different on Krypton, but I was on Earth now, and I couldn’t afford to draw any attention to myself. That was the important thing. No matter how strange it all seemed. But it did seem strange, because the truth is, for me – for a lot of my people – there’s no difference between loving women and loving men.’

Diana had timed her walk to the podium perfectly for Supergirl to turn, raise her hand to the woman’s cheek, and kiss her.

Lena’s eyes were about to pop out of her head. Right. Supergirl liked women. That wasn’t going to haunt a certain class of dream she always tried to forget about come morning.

It was the classic demonstration kiss, quick and clean. When they stepped apart Supergirl pulled a little paper flag from her hair – blue, purple and pink – and wedged it under Diana’s beanie. Then Diana lifted Supergirl’s hand to the sky, raising a cheer. The sound was almost lost in the wild frenzy of the crowd.

* 

You’d never have known M’gann’s had recently been the headquarters for the resistance to an alien invasion. It looked totally normal, apart from the string of rainbow bunting above the bar, and no Mon-El behind it. Kara was still getting used to that.

She offered to buy Diana a drink. Diana declined. ‘I must be getting on. I hear there is a universe populated by descendants of the dinosaurs.’

‘Woah.’ She’d like to see that. ‘Will you come back and visit?’

‘When I can. It has been an honour to meet you, Kara Zor-El.’ Diana gave Kara a kiss on the cheek. ‘I am confident I’m leaving this world in good hands.’

‘Shame I didn’t get to try on the gauntlets.’

‘You are bulletproof,’ said Diana, a glint in her eyes. She slung her bag over her shoulder and walked away, leaving the bar with a nod to Alex and Maggie as they passed the hulking bouncer.

Maggie looked like she’d won a bet. Alex was flustered, heart rate raised, somewhere between delighted and pissed off, and she headed straight for Kara. ‘Why didn’t you _tell_ me?’

‘I didn’t want to get in your way.’

‘Oh.’ That deflated her a little.

‘It’s not a big deal. I mean, you’re gonna tell me it is.’ Kara noticed Maggie trying to catch her eye, and paused to request a club soda. Once Alex had picked her drink too, Kara said, ‘I’ve always known. It’s not this big journey of discovery like it is for you. I didn’t mind keeping it quiet a little longer.’

‘Oh, Kara,’ Alex said, and engulfed her in a hug that would have left a human struggling to breathe.

Maggie handed her a club soda with the words, ‘Nice speech.’

They went to claim their favourite table before the bar filled up. Many of the aliens who’d been at Pride would be coming here to continue the revelries. Winn and Maggie challenged Alex to a two-on-one pool game, while James showed Kara his photo roll.

‘Ooh, I like that one,’ she said. Two women faced off against each other, one human, one alien, perfectly balanced at each side of the screen, with a blurred backdrop of a balloon arch.

‘Tough. I’m keeping that one,’ said James. ‘I was too far away to get any good shots of Diana, but I’m sure someone will have.’

Kara adjusted her glasses. ‘It’ll be fun to watch the gossip sites try to identify Supergirl’s mystery date.’

‘Do you know what you’re going to write? About that blogger?’ asked James.

Kara stole a couple of fries from his plate. Bigotry, love, entitlement… ‘I’ve got a few ideas,’ she said.

* 

Only the pigeons saw Diana go.

**Author's Note:**

> Guys. I was just trying to write a fluffy fic about Sanvers’ first Pride. Ye gods. (Literally.) At least it’s not angst this time?
> 
> Normally this is the part where I apologise for it not being as good as I hoped it would be but honestly, writing this thing was like herding cats. Finished is better than I hoped it would be. (I wanted to have it done by the end of Pride month and I am One Day Late, so ugh.) I kept getting Kara and Supergirl mixed up and I swear everybody’s OOC and I think my own complicated feelings about Pride were getting in the way and – you know what? Not your problem.
> 
> A wild fic author appeared! Reader used comment! It’s super effective!


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